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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29056023">To Walk in on the Ocean</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectclaypigeons/pseuds/protectclaypigeons'>protectclaypigeons</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Penumbra Podcast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Arguing, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Juno Steel Needs a Hug, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Other, Peter Nureyev is a Good Boyfriend, Rita is a Good Friend (Penumbra Podcast), Self-Harm, Self-Harm Recovery, Vespa's bedside manner leaves something to be desired, What else is new, aNGST!!! HURT/COMFORT!!!!!, cursing, i think that's all.. oh wAIT how could i forget:, i would warn for inaccuracy but it's all sci-fi handwaving anyway so :), idk how to tag that but i have a feeling it could be triggering to some, it's described but it's also like... a fictional type of injury lol, same with the medical stuff. like, self-injury, tpp fans will see juno steel and ask "is anyone gonna project onto that" and not wait for an answer, unconsciousness/paralysis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:33:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,890</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29056023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/protectclaypigeons/pseuds/protectclaypigeons</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rita swallowed, curled her hand into a fist, and rapped on the door. “Mistah Steel. Come on.” Her voice shook like the tinny sound rattled, but there was nothing else. “Mistah Steel?” Nothing.</p><p>Enough of this; she knew something was wrong. In fact, if she was half as smart as she thought, she knew <em>exactly</em> what was wrong. And she wasn’t gonna leave her sulky boss alone if there was even a slim chance that he was hurt as much as he might be.</p><p>---</p><p>Juno relapses into an old habit that’s painful in more ways than one. Rita and Nureyev help him through it (and Vespa, debatably).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel, Rita &amp; Juno Steel, Vespa Ilkay &amp; Juno Steel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS IN THE TAGS. I tried my best to not write this in a way that would encourage anyone to self harm, but it could definitely still be triggering. I know I sometimes ignore trigger warnings because I kind of want to upset myself, but that's an awful thing to do to yourself and you deserve to feel safe and okay!! It's alright if you can't read this, love you all &lt;3</p><p>The first chapter is written from Rita's perspective, the second (and main part of the story tbh) is from Juno's (all 3rd person though obviously lol)</p><p>Title is from "At Sea" by Simon Armitage <span class="small">(a very good poem which you should absolutely go read later,, plus you could find some good Juno angst in there if ya squint;)</span>): "Words have been spoken; things that were bottled / have burst open and to walk in now / would be to walk in / on the ocean.”</p><p>(Yes I wrote Juno's emotions based on my own experiences — I wrote this to help get myself through a relapse.)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Well,” the Captain said with a click of her tongue, deftly shuffling another deck of cards, “at least it’ll be far easier for us to cheat without a stubborn ex-detective breathing down our necks. Far more fun that way, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Where <em>has</em> Mistah Steel been? I ain’t seen him since… gosh, since this mornin’, when we got back from that awful factory place.”</p><p>“Yeah…” Miss Vespa muttered from the couch behind her. “I’ve only seen him once today. He wandered into the kitchen while I was starting to make dinner. Just stood there staring at the cabinets or something like an idiot, ‘til I asked him what he’d come in for and he just… shrugged and walked off! Weirdo.” Miss Vespa huffed. “Stand behind a lady like a plotting serial killer in a movie and then just turn around and leave, what the hell.” There wasn’t any real anger in her voice though, Rita could tell that much. Just a hint of concern, like all the worry slowly bubbling up in her own gut right now.</p><p>“That’s the only time I’ve seen him today. Although I…” Her voice faltered. “Oh, I guess it could’ve just been…”</p><p>“No no, dear, I saw him there too, as a matter of fact.” the Captain set down the freshly shuffled deck. “I was right there where you’re sitting now. Saw him wander right on back to his room,” she sing-songed, “That’s why I knew he wasn’t just absent, but properly ignoring me when I went to fetch him for target practice. The gall of that lady.” She huffed, sounding just like her fiancée for a moment. “Though I suppose it’s nice to see people still keeping the sulky spirit of adolescence alive, if they can’t manage childhood whimsy.”</p><p>“Indeed,” said Mr. Jet. “And he did not even respond to me when I went to retrieve him for dinner. Even for such a mopey individual as himself, this is rather strange.”</p><p>Rita felt a knot tying up in her throat. They all sounded way too much like she did back then, all those years ago, when she’d be all annoyed at him not picking up any of her calls to come down and unlock the door ‘cause she forgot something, or to come to the office because he was late and there were cases piling up, only to hack through the office or apartment door to find it so cold and her poor boss all—</p><p>Rita bit her tongue and screwed her eyes shut. <em>Calm down, Rita, don’t you go jumping into another one’a those brain rabbitholes. None of that’s happening right now and if it is, panicking’s not gonna help any. Just gonna make this whole thing worse! If it even is bad, maybe it’s not worse at all, maybe he’s fine, oh gosh…</em></p><p>Mr. Ransom was tapping his plastic figurine anxiously on the rim of his glass. Rita focused on holding her panic down and looked at him hopefully: he knew Mr. Steel as good as she did; better, even. He’d know whether this was a big deal, whether it was any deal at all.</p><p>He just sighed, blowing a sleek strand of hair up and off his face. “He’s been like that all day, I’m afraid. We had a bit of a falling-out following that disaster of a heist, and I haven’t seen him since then, this morning. He’s just brooding though, most likely…” He pursed his lips in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “He’ll be fine.” </p><p>But it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anybody else.</p><p>Rita furled and unfurled her sweaty hands, bunching up the flowery print of her skirt. The Captain was dealing the cards now, and their normal chatter was starting up again, glasses clinking on the table and witty comments being swapped around, all just buzzing around her. It was such an unusual feeling to Rita, being still in a room full of movement, instead of the other way around.</p><p>From across the table, the Captain’s hand passed around to the space between Mr. Ransom and herself, a card between two slender fingers, and she hesitated.</p><p>And then she drew it back, deciding not to bother laying any cards out for Mr. Steel and Rita didn’t know why, but that was the moment that pulled her up to stand determined on her feet; it simply wasn’t right with him gone.</p><p>“I’m just… I’m just gonna go check on him, okay? Just in case. I mean, probably nothing, really,” she laughed nervously. “Probably he’ll just answer the door with that grumpy ol’ face of his and be just like his normal Steel self. But…” Her heels clicked under her as she began backing towards the hall. “...Yeah. I’ma go check.”</p><p>Half the group nodded at her, though a bit confused, and she whirled around to start clicking down the hallway. She tried to keep the rhythm steady, same as her breathing, but they both just hitched up faster when she focused on them too much. She pulled out her tablet without taking her eyes off Mr. Steel’s door. It was fine; he would be fine. He wasn’t like that anymore.</p><p>She reached the door. She tried it just in case: locked.</p><p>“Mistah Steel?”</p><p>The sounds of the ship’s thrums and whirs continued around her. It was all so loud.</p><p>She placed a doughy hand flat against the door, where its metal panels met in the middle in a cold, still pinwheel.</p><p>“Mistah Steel, it’s me, Rita.”</p><p>Silence. She swallowed.</p><p>“We’re playin’ Phobos Phight! again, and I know you always get annoyed ‘cause literally everyone’s always cheatin’ but,” she laughed a bit, through the tension in her voice, “but, well, I can’t promise anyone else’ll stop, but I can play fair tonight! I can play by all the stupid rules, even the ridiculous one about no teleportin’ across the board, ‘cause I don’t really care about the game, Mistah Steel. And I know you don’t either, none of us really do. We care about relaxing and having fun together, and we care about <em>you,</em> Mistah Steel, or the Captain wouldn’t’a set out a hand for you.” She remembered to breathe.</p><p>“The hand’s waitin’, Mistah Steel. Whenever you’re ready. We’re all in the common room, waitin’ for ya. Here for ya.”</p><p>She breathed again, three sighs. Just like he taught her.</p><p>It was silent underneath them.</p><p>“You don’t gotta come play tonight, don’t worry. But… please just open the door, or say somethin’. ‘Cause I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”</p><p>There was the slightest noise from behind the door, leaking through the rigid steel panels. It sounded almost like a grumble or a sigh. Muffled.</p><p>…Pained, maybe.</p><p>Rita swallowed, curled her hand into a fist, and rapped on the door. “Mistah Steel. Come on.” Her voice shook like the tinny sound rattled, but there was nothing else. “Mistah Steel?” Nothing.</p><p>Enough of this; she knew something was wrong. In fact, if she was half as smart as she thought, she knew <em>exactly</em> what was wrong. And she wasn’t gonna leave her sulky boss alone if there was even a slim chance that he was hurt as much as he might be.</p><p>“Mistah Steel,” she said, her voice stronger. “I don’t wanna hafta do this, but if you don’t answer me this time, I’ma hack right through this door!”</p><p>At that, a quiet but unmistakable groan sounded from the other side.</p><p>She screwed her eyes shut again and turned on her tablet. “Sorry, boss,” she whispered.</p><p>Her short fingers blurred over the blue light easily, naturally, tapping and typing almost faster than she could keep track of. The tablet and the door beeped and dinged at each other, until finally the door gave in and opened in a swirling hiss.</p><p>The inside of the chamber was dark. Very dark. The only light that managed to sneak in was from behind her where she stood in the doorframe, as well as a dim lamp on the bedside table in the corner, emanating that same harsh blue light. And, on the floor of the room, the tiny blinking light of a blaster set to stun.</p><p>She rushed forward to the silhouette of her former boss, the shape of one of his hands trailing from the blaster. She felt mechanical running up and crouching down to him, but as soon as she touched his shoulder and felt a cold prickle of static, all that panic swelled up again and burst.</p><p><em>“Mistah Steel!</em> Mistah Steel, oh gosh, oh no, you really…” She tried to swallow the shrillness out of her voice and the tears out of her eyes, but it didn’t do any good. “Oh, boss, why…”</p><p>He grumbled something, slurred through his slack lips. He seemed to be trying to curl in on himself, pulling his shoulder in and burying his face as much as he could, trying to hide from her. She tugged on his shoulder to roll him easily onto his back, one of his arms folding awkwardly underneath him, and pressed two of her shaking fingers to his neck: …his pulse was fine. Slow, but fine. She let out a shaky breath she forgot she’d been holding.</p><p>“Boss, you almost gave me a heart attack! ‘Cause <em>you</em> coulda had a heart attack! A real one! Oh, boss, you know how dangerous this is, why didja…”</p><p>He mumbled something again, frustrated, trying to move under her hand. It almost sounded like him muttering “not your boss anymore”, but she had no idea how much of that was real, and how much was just the ghost of Mr. Steel bouncing around in her head.</p><p>God. <em>No.</em> She had to stop thinking like he wasn’t here, like her boss (or not-boss) wasn’t right here under her hands, alive, aware and trying to move.</p><p>The movement was good: it meant he was nearing the end of his stun, it was wearing off. She tried to push another breath of her panic out, and then reached over him, dutifully following her dusty muscle memory: first, adjust any weirdly bent limbs. Then, shift him onto his back or in a reclined sitting position if you can, so it’s easier to breathe.</p><p>Slowly, she shifted around him and pried him up by the shoulders, freeing his pinned arm and dragging him to the nearby bed, resting him against the back of the frame.</p><p>As she pulled him, she met his eye, upside-down and under her, staring back at her with darting panic. And she felt a bolt of sadness go through her like she hadn’t felt this whole night: he was scared. Scared to have been caught in such a painful moment; scared for her sake, seeing him like this; scared to be trapped in his vulnerability like this, not even able to talk back to her.</p><p>Scared of what this meant; the going back. She was scared, too.</p><p>After she propped him up and wiped the sweat from her brow, she noticed the glint of something in his ear. She reached over and plucked it out: a comms earpiece, tinny chords leaking from it that were so loud she could hear them from here, distantly. When she’d drawn it out, his shoulders had let go of a tiny bit of tension.</p><p>“Gosh, Mistah Steel, you can’t listen to stuff this loud, you’ll hurt your ears!” She held his chin gently to tilt his head around, taking the other one out, and then turned around to search the floor for the comms they were playing from.</p><p>“It’s true, ya’know. Frannie told me her uncle used to work at all these big loud construction sites back in Hyperion, and he’d always have these huge headphones in — like, each ear thingy was as big as an onion —” she paused and got up on her knees so she could turn back to Mr. Steel and show him her hands clutching a huge imaginary onion.</p><p>“And he’d play tunes as loud as he could through ‘em, to drown all the other noise out, the jackhammers an’ all. Well, one day,” In the dark, her fumbling fingers finally caught the edge of the comms.</p><p>“One day after years an’ years’a that, he went to this big loud concert, with everybody jumpin’ all around and screamin’, and it got SO LOUD and his ears suddenly just: <em>SPLAT!”</em> Her arms shot out, flinging splayed hands out from next to her ears. “They just exploded in this gross bomb of blood and ear gunk and cartridges, or whatever that ear bone stuff’s called.”</p><p>She clicked off the comms with the finality of closing a storybook. “For <em>real,</em> boss. So you better be nice to your ears, I don’t wanna be moppin’ up no ear confetti in the office ten years from now.”</p><p>She sighed and finally really met her not-boss’s eye again. He looked… strange. His head was tipped back and his eyepatch was all crooked, jacket creased in odd places and hands slumped in his lap, long shadows stretching over his face and he just didn’t look <em>right.</em> He looked so wrong and old and tired and it made that knot rise up in her throat all over again.</p><p>But he was staring back at her. Steady. And if she squinted she could just barely see that same glimmer that his eye always had when he looked at her: a hint of admiration mixed with a whole lot of annoyance and confusion. Love mixed with classic Steel grouchiness, both twenty years in the making and still going strong.</p><p>She smiled weakly; he’d be alright.</p><p>Suddenly, Rita remembered the other thing she had to worry about. She scooted closer and shifted the hem of his sweater up. He grumbled in annoyed alarm, shifting uncomfortably.</p><p>“Sorry, Mistah Steel, I’m just lookin’ for the wound. Gotta make sure it doesn’t get all gross and weird…” She squinted to scan his belly in the dark. Lots of similar marks — little many-pointed stars of lightened scar tissue — but no fresh ones.</p><p>She glanced up at him and spoke again, voice a little hushed this time. “You did shoot yourself in the stomach, right?”</p><p>He mumbled an “mmhm” through his slightly parted mouth.</p><p>“Well, I ain’t seein’... oh! There she is.” Looking at it longer, she cringed at the sight. Like the ones she used to find him hit with, it was bigger than normal stun wounds because it’d been so close. And harsher, too: layers of the skin had burned away, bleached by the electricity so it was pink and glistening raw. She held her hand up to it, careful not to touch: even after more than an hour, it was still hot.</p><p>“Oh gosh… okay, this ain’t great. I’ma go look for an ice pack or somethin’, or… maybe a bandage? I dunno what would really help, I know I’ve helped you out like this before but I ain’t a doctor, Mista— OH! Oh <em>wow</em> am I dense, Mistah Steel, we already got a doctor on board here! Lemme go get Miss Vespa I’ll be right back—”</p><p>Mr. Steel groaned loudly behind her as she jumped up. She turned around to face him again. His movement seemed to be coming back to his face more: even with his stunned muscles he managed to knit his brows together in concern, his head tilted in an I-dare-you sort of way.</p><p>“I…” Rita sighed. She folded her arms around herself and softened her voice again. “I know, I know. It’s probably bad enough for you to have me here, and I already know about all this. You’ll still manage without a doctor’s help, I know ya have before, even though nowadays Miss Vespa’s always insistin’ anyone who gets stunned stay in the medbay for like a <em>whole night—”</em></p><p>He grumbled back in frustrated agreement.</p><p>She sighed again. “Okay, okay, that ain’t helpin’ my case, I guess. But… it ain’t just the burn, Mistah Steel. You know that. I know you ain’t done this in a long, long time, and you were in a real bad place then. I know you wouldn’t do somethin’ like this unless you were already really hurtin’ already. I dunno if there’s any easy way to heal from somethin’ like that, but I do know that not talkin’ about it ain’t gonna make it any better. And yeah, you and Miss Vespa can be pretty… well, you can really get on each other’s nerves, I know, but… She does still care aboutcha. ‘Cause that’s just part of bein’ in this family, everyone cares about everyone else. That’s how we work together as good as we do. And I bet she wouldn’t be as judgy about this as you think. She’s prickly, but she’s a good person, just like you.”</p><p>She stared back at him. Light from the hallway projected onto the side of his face in one careful streak.</p><p>“It’s your decision, Mistah Steel. One grumble for yes and two for no. It’s up to you and I won’t judge ya no matter which you choose. But… I just want you to be safe. I hope ya know that.”</p><p>He kept staring back at her, and she knew in that big old brain of his he was shuffling everything around, emotions and facts and all the pain he’d built up in there, making another one of those detective calculations. And then, finally, he closed his eye and shifted his head in what was probably a nod, humming once.</p><p>She half-smiled, eyes still watery. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go get her.”</p><p>At the door, she turned around and looked back at him. “I’m glad you made that choice, Mistah Steel. You ain’t failed nearly as much as you think. Not at all.”</p><p>As she was leaving, she glanced at the switch on the wall. “Oh! The light. Sorry, boss.”</p><p>Rita left the room illuminated, bright light bathing her not-boss as he stared up at the ceiling bulb and, slowly, began the search for the strength to move his hands again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Juno didn’t keep a documented list of all the most agonizing trips he’d taken in his life, but if he did, the one from his quarters to the medbay would certainly be up there. Above even when he was stranded in the Martian desert, maybe, or that godforsaken Faust’s Funworld fiasco.</p><p>Because at least on those two journeys he wasn’t paralyzed and being bridal-carried by a confused Vespa muttering curses under her breath, a crying Rita on her heels and Nureyev shouting panicked questions from further behind, his worst secret suddenly exposed to everyone in the galaxy he could think of who'd care. And he wasn’t even able to open his mouth and take the edge off of it all by spewing some harsh comment or lie.</p><p>He didn’t know if he would actually lie, given the chance. For one, even with someone as quick-thinking as himself, no one could cover up a situation this obvious. But also… Rita was right. He really should tell somebody. And he let her, he gave her express permission to go get Vespa’s help.</p><p>So why did he hate this so much right now? Why was it still the most terrifying, sickening feeling to be seen like this? Why did he just want to shrivel up and die when Vespa laid him out on one of the medical beds and smoothed a bandage over his wound, why did every peal of confused and panicked chatter sounding from the hallway constrict his chest and tie all his intestines up, why did he still feel paralyzed and numb and prickling with painful electricity long after the stun had started wearing away?</p><p>It was quieter now, the whole ship holding tension in the whirring vents of its walls and the persistent beeping of the medical equipment around him. Vespa was over in the corner of the room doing… something. Juno couldn’t tell what because he was busy stubbornly training his eye up at the ceiling, counting the panels and pretending to still be stunned. Trying to ignore the sick part of him that still craved to actually be stunned, that wished he’d never been found, just left to his own violent peace.</p><p>It was his crooked eyepatch that eventually got him to surrender. Trying to be inconspicuous, he lifted his hand to finally shift it back to fully cover his eye, and then wiped away a bit of half-dried drool from the corner of his mouth (<em>gross, Steel. You relapse and can’t even bother to look put together while you do it?</em>).</p><p>He didn’t once take his eye off the corner of that one panel. Not even when Vespa whipped around as soon as he moved (<em>so much for inconspicuous, I guess</em>). He heard the quiet <em>tink</em>s of metal and plastic as she set down whatever she’d been doing and made her way over.</p><p>“Morning, Steel.”</p><p>“Wait… wait, it’s <em>morning?”</em> He tried to push past his slurred speech and still-weak body, struggling to sit upright. “I never even fell asleep, I don’t think, it can’t’ve been that long—”</p><p>“No, idiot. Just a turn of phrase. It is late, though, so thanks for that.” She pushed him back gently by the shoulder as he tried to sit up. “Not so fast, you’re still weak as hell right now.”</p><p>He laid back with a huff. <em>“Sorry,”</em> he said with a roll of his eye, ignoring the last comment. “I honestly didn’t really factor you into.. this…”</p><p>His sarcasm sloughed away. What was this? A decision? A relapse? <em>Proof</em> of… something?</p><p>“Well, you should have.” She turned to the machine that had a cord snaking down and strapped to his wrist, skimming all the jargon on the panel. “Stuns are still dangerous, there’s a fat chance no one would’a found you, and unfortunately for you, the person you hate most on this ship is also the only doctor on board.”</p><p>“Hey, I don’t <em>hate—”</em></p><p>She muttered aloud some of the medical gibberish as she read it, ignoring him. “98.5… Okay. Well, at least you’re fine physically. The stomach’s a pretty safe place to get stunned, all things considered, and your body seems to have built up a tolerance to the electricity. Still, with a shot that close, you're lucky it wasn’t worse.”</p><p>Juno mumbled an uncertain sound under his breath. Even he wasn’t sure what he’d said, but Vespa’s eyes suddenly shot up to his with scrutiny. But there was something even worse there… sympathy. Pity.</p><p>She looked like she was about to ask something, but then she just let it go with a heavy sigh. She dropped down on the stool beside the bed.</p><p>“Look, Steel…” she said to the floor. Juno stuck his gaze to the ceiling again, stomach curdling with every second he waited for her to continue.</p><p>“This… doesn’t bode well for you. Mentally, I mean. I’ve got no idea about your whole psychological history or whatever but you seem to struggle with <em>something,</em> whatever it is. I’m no psychologist but you do have to end up learning a <em>bit</em> about it to be a doctor like this, I could maybe help diagnose you or something, and… well, I <em>would</em> be able to try and find some actual help for you if we weren’t, y’know, criminals drifting in the middle of space."</p><p>Juno hummed noncommittally.</p><p>“Steel…” Vespa grumbled.</p><p>“No, yeah, I… I’m not against.. <em>treatment,</em> or whatever. A diagnosis could actually be good. Just the process that’d be uncomfortable...</p><p>“But, I mean, I dunno if this is even related to any of that. It was just a, uh — an impulsive decision, okay? It’s fine.”</p><p>“Okaaay,” she said, in a frustratingly doubtful tone. She sighed. “Well, at least you’re not all cagey about that, I guess. Really thought you would be, to be honest.”</p><p>“What? Rude.”</p><p>“Hey, can you blame me? You talk about your mental state about as much as Rita shuts up about her streams.” Re: never.</p><p>“Okay… yeah, that’s fair,” Juno sighed, letting out a breath of a laugh.</p><p>“I… Steel, I hope you still get that this is… kind of a big deal. For you, I mean. It’s still not good for you, regardless of how much it did or didn’t do to your <em>body.</em></p><p>“I mean, don’t get me wrong, it is pretty bad for your body, too —” she sounded thankful to slip back into her stiff doctor talk. “— you’ve already been pretty banged up by all those stun shots while you were down on Mars, doing whatever PI stuff that made you such good target practice. And now, those real up close ones, they’re even worse. Stuns can seriously mess you up, Steel: ya know those spasms and tics you’ve been getting? The fatigue, the soreness, random numbness or pins-and-needles feelings? You can thank all those stuns for that.”</p><p>Juno huffed. “God, you sound like a guidance counselor giving an anti-drug lecture.”</p><p><em>“Steel…”</em> Vespa grumbled warningly.</p><p>“Real rude guidance counselor, sure, but —”</p><p>“This is serious, Steel!” she snapped. “Can’t you just sit through one conversation without cracking one of your stupid goddamn one-liners —”</p><p>He shrunk away from her. <em>“Sheesh,</em> okay, I get it!”</p><p>She backed off — still giving him the classic Vespa stinkeye, of course. He felt tired.</p><p>“I know…” he sighed. “I know it’s serious. Why else would I be trying to joke around? This isn’t a picnic for me either, doc, just trying to lighten the mood is all.”</p><p>“Oh, and real good job you’ve done of that.”</p><p>“Lay <em>off,</em> will you?! I don’t— I can’t— I’m not— UGH.” He dropped his head back onto the pillow, punched in the face by frustration. “I can’t… <em>do</em> an argument right now.”</p><p>He shook his head at the ceiling, letting out a weak laugh. “God, that sounds pathetic,” he muttered.</p><p>“No, I…” That edge had left her voice a little. “you’re right. Sorry.”</p><p>They hung in silence for a second. Then Juno spoke up again, talking to the ceiling tiles — and Vespa, the eavesdropper.</p><p>“I… do get that it’s serious. Really. I get that it’s bad, and unhealthy, and all that, I don’t need people telling me that I’m not doing well: <em>I. Know.</em> What I need to know is…” He sighed heavily.</p><p>“I’ll work this out, okay? I just need a little time, or something. I want to get ‘better’, whatever the hell that means. I… I think,” he mumbled.</p><p>Vespa looked like she was about to say something, but Juno was honestly so tired of the heavy Emotions Talk at this point. He spoke up again before she got a chance to: “Oh and, for what it’s worth, sorry for making you stay up working like this. I know it’s probably real annoying.”</p><p>Vespa just sighed. “Don’t apologize to me, Steel. Apologize to yourself.”</p><p><em>Goddamnit, not again.</em> His face fell deadpan. “What.”</p><p>“You know what I mean!” she snapped.</p><p>“I really don’t, actually, Ms. Shrink, so if you could please—”</p><p>“And to Rita, actually. And Ransom, god.” She sighed. “Okay… look. I get it.”</p><p>Juno paused at that. His voice softened: “Wait… really?"</p><p>She spoke over him. “No, no, I don’t <em>get it</em> get it, I just…</p><p>"I know how hard it can be sometimes. To be good to yourself. I mean, god, sometimes you look at that idiot in the mirror and just wanna punch her in the face.” She let out a sharp laugh, for just a second.</p><p>“... But… you gotta try, alright? I know you think you’re hurting people when you ask for their help, but really it’s the exact opposite. ‘Cause you’re not the only one who you hurt when you do shit like this to yourself. Rita, Buddy, your precious <em>Ransom,</em> hell, even Siquliak and I. You gotta try and tough it out as much as you can ‘cause these people <em>care</em> about you, Steel, they really do, and it’s selfish to pretend that they don’t.”</p><p>For a moment Juno just stared back at her, stunned (ha). “…wow. That was… <em>almost</em> nice, Vespa.”</p><p>The expression Vespa apparently had when she was trying to be kind fell off her face in an instant. “The hell you mean <em>‘almost’,</em> that’s the sappiest shit I’ve ever said to you!”</p><p>“You seriously think it’s <em>selfish</em> of me to hurt myself? <em>That’s</em> why I shouldn’t do it? What, do you think I’m a bad person for having a problem like this?” He could feel part of <em>himself</em> recoiling at his words, but he didn’t back down.</p><p>“NO, Steel, I don’t. I really don’t.” She huffed. “But I know that you do. And I bet you’re trying to put it all on me right now so you can tell yourself I made you feel that way, or that someone agrees with you, or <em>what</em>ever.</p><p>"You’re not a bad person, Steel. Especially not for this. But it seems like you still really need to get that in your head.”</p><p>Those words rang out in his skull, and by the time he remembered he was supposed to be arguing, or something, his opponent had already stood up and gone back to whatever she’d been doing before.</p><p>He let his head drop back down onto his stupid pillow, fingers finding loose threads on his stupid blanket to pick at. This was all so… ugh, you get it. The clinking of Vespa’s tools in the corner scratched under his skin.</p><p>Eventually he spoke into the silence again. “How weird is the rest of the crew being about this.”</p><p>Vespa made an uncertain sound, still focused on her task. “Well, Siquliak, living brick wall, is hard enough to read as ever. Seems worried though. You already saw your secretary, of course: weirdly level-headed about it, if you ask me.”</p><p>“I didn’t.”</p><p>“You <em>literally</em> did.”</p><p>He rolled his eye as he sat up, taking advantage of the doctor’s turned back.</p><p>“As for Bud… I can’t really get a read on her either. I mean, I haven’t gotten much of a chance to talk to any of ‘em, obviously… Seems like her feelings are complicated, though. And, again, <em>worried,”</em> she said pointedly, almost like an accusation. Part of Juno’s brain went <em>I mean, fair</em> and the other half kicked that one in the shin.</p><p>But there was one person still missing from that list, the one person he’d really asked about. “And…” he said hesitantly. “what about Ransom?”</p><p>“I’m getting to him!” She sighed. “He’s… well, he was a wreck earlier, and he doesn’t seem to be much better now — a quieter wreck, maybe, but —”</p><p>Juno buried his face in his hands, a heavy ball of guilt and dread and maybe fear suddenly pressing on his gut. “Oh <em>shit,</em> I really…” He suddenly looked up at her, fingers dragging down his face. “I really didn’t mean to scare him like this, I hope he knows that, he’s gotta know that, right?”</p><p>She still didn’t turn around, instead just reaching back into some clattering cabinet. “I’m sure he does, but you gotta tell him that yourself, Steel. I’m sure as hell not becoming your couple’s therapist.”</p><p>He rolled his eye. “Small mercy,” he muttered.</p><p>“I’ll call him in after I put the rest of this away. Also, lie the fuck down.” She still hadn’t turned around, what the hell? He fell back, not without a frustrated splutter.
He stared back up at those (stupid) ceiling tiles… he was getting real sick of those.</p><p>The memory of what had happened those few hours ago resurfaced again, and it brought that surge of guilt back with a vengeance. Rita was way stronger than her bubbly personality let on, he knew that… but just because she could handle it doesn’t mean she should have. She deserved better than the thankless, mentally unhealthy wreck of a boss (not-boss) he seemed to always fall back into being.</p><p>He hated backtracking. Apologizing for damage as if that could reverse it, as if it could erase the blame… But it’s better than nothing. What else could he do?</p><p>“Hey—” he rasped, and then cleared his throat. “Hey Vespa… could you do me a favor and call Rita down, first? I know she probably says it’s fine, but I still feel really bad about her, y’know, seeing me like that… Plus, you don’t get to get much thanks in when your vocabulary’s reduced to caveman grunts,” he said with a dull laugh.</p><p>There was an awful beat before Vespa responded. “Sure, yeah.”</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>- - -</p>
</div><p>After some amount of time that both felt too long and way too short, Rita came clacking down the hall. Vespa was finishing packing the last of her work away. As she hung up her lab coat, she gave him one last wordless look, in between a warning and a cautious question: something like <em>you’ll be okay, right?</em> Or maybe just: <em>be okay.</em> Two ridiculous messages, but Juno just nodded somberly.</p><p>Right on cue, a careful knock sounded from the door. Vespa stepped forward and tapped the keypad beside it, and it spiraled open to reveal his not-secretary standing there, in the same big polka-dot cardigan she’d been wearing before, holding her arms across herself shyly as if she were holding an imaginary cat. Vespa gave her a nod and then slunk past her, out into the hallway.</p><p>She looked… smaller than usual. Not that she wasn’t always under five feet tall, but more that… she looked like she <em>felt</em> smaller. Or maybe the opposite, like she wanted to be smaller, worried that if she let her arms let go of each other they might lurch out and break something.</p><p>Of all the expressions Juno had seen on Rita, this was the rarest one; and the one he hated to see more than anything.</p><p>“Hi Mistah Steel,” she’d already said. “You’re all movin’ again, that’s good!” She gave a weak smile, and then pattered nearer to him, still cautious in that distinctly un-Rita way.</p><p>“How… How are ya feelin’, boss?”</p><p>“Not your boss anymore,” he quipped. And then… then what? There’s nothing he could say that could fix this. He only risked hurting her more, only risked tightening and tangling all the knots he’d just made until it was impossible to undo. He shouldn’t have tried to do this, apologize — he could’ve just locked everything up and never talk about it again; or, failing that, he could escape through the trash chute and build a whole new life for himself, or die out in the void of space, anything but… <em>this.</em></p><p>But this was his punishment; he deserved this. And more importantly, Rita deserved this. So he let the words crawl out of his mouth.</p><p>“I… Rita, I…”</p><p>He pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eye shut. He heard his friend try to be quiet as she clacked over to the stool beside him, hopped up on it, and sat down.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Rita. I really am. I don’t— I shouldn—”</p><p>“It’s okay, b— Mistah Steel. Really.” The words sounded scripted.</p><p>He hated this, he hated that he’d hurt her and that she felt like she had to pretend he hadn’t. “No it’s not! It’s not okay, Rita, please stop saying that, it’s not—” His face fell into his hands again.</p><p>“Mistah Steel! Really, it’s okay, boss! I mean— oh gosh dangit, you know what I mean!” She sighed. “I’m…</p><p>I am worried, Mistah Steel, ‘course I am. But this ain’t about me. ‘Cause I know you gotta be feelin’ just— just way, waywayway worse than me right now!”</p><p>“Okay, I wouldn’t say <em>that,”</em> he muttered. She gave him a dubious look.</p><p>“Well I ain’t the one in a hospital bed right now, now am I?” she said with a wobble of her head.</p><p>He knew it was meant to be lighthearted, but it just made the weight on his stomach feel heavier. It seemed like Rita hadn’t realized how serious her words would sound either, because now she shrunk back and sighed.</p><p>“Just tell me how you are, boss. We can talk about me when we’re both good an’ ready. But my hurt’s caus’a your hurt, so it ain’t gonna get fixed none until we help you first.”</p><p>Until <em>we</em> help you. Not the way he’d thought about it, if he were honest: not just him, not just others, but both of them, together. Although maybe she just meant the crew and he was reading too much into it. Stunning yourself and then having to talk to your family about it will sure put you in a weird, introspective mood.</p><p>“I’m… I don’t know. My side is still sore as hell.”</p><p>“You know what I mean, boss.”</p><p>“Not your boss—”</p><p>“Mistah Steeel…”</p><p>He sighed. God, she was like a little Vespa. If Vespa were happy, and overly peppy, and talkative, and nothing like Vespa at all.</p><p>“Okay, okay, yeah. I know. I’m just… I feel so weird. And bad. Like…”</p><p>He suppressed a grin as a very good idea came to him. Okay, maybe not Very Good, but maybe the only way he’d be able to talk about his feelings with Rita and have either of them get through it.</p><p>“You know… You know how in that stream we watched once, those interstellar cowboys had to trudge through that Neptunian swamp?”</p><p>Rita’s eyes lit up: he was definitely speaking her language. “Oh my <em>gosh</em> oh my gosh oh my gosh, of course I remember! The stream we watched once, more like fource! Or— or however ya say it. You are speakin’ my language, Mistah Steel!” He knew it. “So how’s it like that?”</p><p>“You know how they lost that one guy, and he had to try and swim through all the muck alone? How the swamp was sucking him in, trying to pull his body out so he had to fight against it? How after they found him and pulled him out, he said it felt awful, like it was so cold he couldn’t feel anything, while at the same time everything hurt, just… <em>so</em> much… and you said that that didn’t make any sense?”</p><p>She nodded eagerly.</p><p>“Well, it’s… like that.”</p><p>“...Huh.” She nodded again, slowly this time. She leaned back as if to examine the metaphor from further away. “So… so the swamp is like, your brain?”</p><p>“Well, I dunno. More like— like <em>life,</em> I guess, or—”</p><p>“And what’re the bears?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The swamp bears! On the stream! Are they like, your memories, or your fears, or— or are they <em>actual swamp bears,</em> oh no, are there bears on this ship and I don’t know about em?!”</p><p>“What? No— <em>What?</em> Oh my God, okay… Just, don’t think too hard about it. I…” he sighed. “I just meant, that’s how I feel a lot of the time. I guess. Like I’m just slowly, slowly drowning in everything. And I feel so much and so little at the same time. The nothing hurts, so much that… it feels like the only way I can turn it off is, y’know.” He gestured vaguely to where his burn was hiding under the blankets.</p><p>“But… but it ain’t,” she said quietly.</p><p>Juno swallowed. “I know. And, honestly, Rita, it just makes it worse most of the time.”</p><p>“Then why—!”</p><p>“I don’t know, Rita!” He laughed incredulously — there was no humor in his voice, though. “I don’t even know, I…” He dropped his head in his hands again. Fuck. Was the trash chute escape plan still on the table?</p><p>He felt one of Rita’s always-unnaturally-warm hands place itself gently on his arm.</p><p>“It’s okay if you don’t know, Mistah Steel. You don’t always gotta know everythin’ remember?” she said with a placating smile. “We’ll figure this out.”</p><p>Something about that snagged something in Juno’s throat. The guilt came back up, relentless: she shouldn’t be reassuring him. Damnit, he asked Vespa to call her up specifically so he could apologize to <em>her,</em> and now here he was with his face in his hands and her comfortingly patting his shoulder. He wasn’t even sure what he was upset about anymore; other than the general concept of <em>himself,</em> he supposed.</p><p>“Rita, I…” He came back up. “You shouldn’t be so worried about me, Rita. It isn’t fair to you.”</p><p>She sighed, pressing her lips together in a worried way, like she was turning what she was about to say over and over in her mind. “I…</p><p>“You can’t just tell me I oughta not be worried and that’ll magically make me stop carin’ aboutcha, Mistah Steel. The truth is as long as your hurtin’ like this, I’m gonna be hurt by that too, ‘cause I’m your friend. And friends are tied together even when we don’t wanna be.</p><p>“Like in that stream where the two friends are handcuffed together for a whole week,” she muttered, tacking it on quickly as if he wouldn’t hear. He grinned slightly.</p><p>She took a deep breath. “Mistah Steel, we’re handcuffed together, ain’t we — by the magic a’ <em>friendship!”</em> she exclaimed with jazz hands, the obnoxious sparkle coming back to her words for a moment before fading again. “And no matter how much you demand I shouldn’t be hurt by how much you’re hurtin’, it ain’t gonna change which way I’m pulled when you move.</p><p>"(Like in the stream),” she muttered.</p><p>“If anythin’, it’s an insult to me: like you’re sayin’, ‘how dare you care about me!’ It ain’t fair, to neither of us. We’re just gonna keep gettin’ pulled around by you — or your swamp bears, or whateva’ — until you admit you gotta get better.”</p><p>He nodded. She was right, she was so right, what was wrong with him, how couldn’t he have seen it that way? He knew far too well that people don’t get to just spiral down without pulling the people closest to them down with them.</p><p>He felt a knot tie up in his throat. He didn’t feel like himself. He felt like…</p><p>Oh god. He knew exactly who he felt like.</p><p>Through the body of Juno Steel, the ghost of Sarah Steel began to cry.</p><p>“Oh no, don’t cry, Mistah Steel! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”</p><p>“No, don’t apologize, Rita, god, I…”</p><p>She hopped off the stool and pulled him into a tight hug. It was sweet, apart from the knee now digging into his fresh burn wound.</p><p>“Oww!” he hissed.</p><p>“Wow, you sure sound weird when you cry, Mistah Steel.”</p><p>“No, Rita, your leg—”</p><p>“Oh! Sorry, boss.”</p><p>He sighed as the pressure was lifted. But he still felt so sick; with himself, and the ghost living inside of him, and how terrifyingly hard it was to tell the difference.</p><p>He carefully brought his arms up and hugged Rita back. “Rita, I…</p><p>"I don’t want to be like her,” he whispered, more to himself than to her, so quiet that even he barely heard it. But suddenly he felt Rita tense around him.</p><p>She lifted her head from his shoulder.</p><p>“Mistah Steel…” she started, ignoring what Juno was silently screaming at her: IGNORE THAT. IGNORE THAT. IGNORE THAT.</p><p>She sighed heavily. “I dunno most of what your mom did, an’ all that. But I do know that this ain’t at all like that.”</p><p>Juno shook his head imperceptibly, not meeting her eye.</p><p>“I know it, Mistah Steel. Ya know why? Well, 'cause it sounds an awful lot like she did it on <em>purpose,</em> first of all," she spat. "But even if she didn't, you're different. 'Cause no one eva’ told her how you were handcuffed to her. Well, you and whoeva’ else.” Another wave of tears passed through Juno, but he let it by. “And here I em tellin’ ya. And more importantly, here you are, wantin’ to get better!” She hugged him again.</p><p>“And I know ya will, Mistah Steel. You already have. We just gotta getcha there again, okay?”</p><p>Juno’s head swam with screaming self-loathing and ghosts and <em>what-did-I-do-to-deserve-you</em>s. He just nodded weakly over her shoulder.</p><p><em>Get there again.</em> Juno had forgotten he’d even gotten “there” in the first place. Maybe that was a good sign after all.</p><p>Eventually Rita unwound herself from the awkwardly-angled hug, gingerly avoiding Juno’s burn scar. She hopped back down onto the tile floor, wobbling for a second, then turning back to him with another soft, watery smile. It really wasn't fair to her, he thought, that frustrating self-loathing coming back to bite one more time before fading away for the night.</p><p>She adjusted her cardigan in a proud little flourish, her eye then catching the clock on the wall. "Oh gosh, it's real late now, ain't it?"</p><p>"Oh." He glanced at the clock. She wasn't completely right: it was technically very <em>early.</em> "Damnit," he muttered.</p><p>"What's wrong?"</p><p>"Nothing, it's just— Well, Vespa said she'd call Ransom down after you, but it's definitely too late for that now."</p><p>"Aw, yeah. You really oughta talk to him..." she admitted. "But in the mornin', probably. For now you just rest up, okay, Mistah Steel?"</p><p>"I— Yeah, okay, but I'm not staying here tonight," he laughed a little. Rita gave him that doubtful look again.</p><p>"That ain't what the doc says!" she sing-songed.</p><p>"Okay, well, screw what the hypothetical doctor ordered, I'm going back to my own damn bed—"</p><p>"I didn't mean some hippotheatrical doctor, Mistah Steel, I meant Miss Vespa! She says you gotta stay here tonight. The <em>whole</em> time."</p><p>"What?" Juno groaned. "No way."</p><p>Rita frowned and then pulled out her comms, tapping something away on it. Surprisingly, it buzzed back not twenty seconds later. She turned the screen towards him:</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
  <tt>RRRRRRITAA!!!: does mr steel have to sleep in the medbay tonite?</tt>
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  <tt></tt>
</p>
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  <tt></tt>
</p>
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  <tt>v.i.: yes the fuck he does</tt>
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</blockquote><p>"Wow, you can just <em>hear</em> her grouchiness through the screen, can't you?"</p><p>Rita nodded as she stashed her comms back away. “Yeah. She knows she ain’t gotta curse quite so much, don’t she?” she muttered. “Anyway: no sneakin’ off to your own quarters tonight, Mistah Steel. And no goin’ off and gettin’ all cuddly with Mistah Ransom either.”</p><p>Juno was a fully grown lady. He shouldn't blush at the implication of him cuddling with his partner. "Okay first of all," he said, blushing, "that isn't even what I meant. And secondly... it would be weird if I asked him to right now anyway."</p><p>"Aw, why—?" Her sad confusion was replaced with plain old sadness. "Ohhh, right. That little argument you two had."</p><p>"Yep," he sighed.</p><p>"I mean... if you ain't mad anymore, he probably ain't either, right?"</p><p>"Let's hope so," he said doubtfully.</p><p>She gave him a sympathetic look. "Well, good luck with that, then," she said with a tentative smile. "In the MORNING," she added.</p><p>"Yeah, yeah."</p><p>She gave the edge of his mattress a little pat and then started to the door. Juno bit his cheek for a moment, knowing what he wanted to tell her but with no idea how to say it.</p><p>"H-hey, Rita? Th—"</p><p>She turned around with an extremely Rita-like grin. "Are you abouta thank me for bein' so kind an' patient an' funny and the bestest non-secretary eva'?" she asked matter-of-fact-ly.</p><p>"I..." Juno laughed. "Yeah, basically."</p><p>She smiled back and held her head up high. "Don't worry 'bout it."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>gOD FUCKIGN DAMNIT I WANTED THIS TO BE 1 CHAPTER, THEN 2, AND NOW THIS. FUCK. Curse my Hyperactive Imagination<sup>TM</sup>. next chapter like super duper soon hopefully :,) with your favorite homme fatale idiot (FINALLY. also this fic ended up having a lot more Rita than I was anticipating lol - not gonna apologize tho)</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A kinda weird fic to introduce myself with, I know :,) I hope you all liked it though! Please be gentle with yourselves and each other in the comments. If you're struggling, consider texting 741741 or The Trevor Project (678678), they really do help. Stay safe and have a wonderful day!! &lt;3</p><p>(oh also, you can find me on tumblr @protectclaypigeons :) I juuust started the blog lol so all follows are greatly appreciated!)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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